


The Prettiest Tree on the Mountain

by PrettyThief



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Face-Sitting, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hiking, Outdoor Sex, Park Rangers AU, Porn with Feelings, Quarantine, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23418907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyThief/pseuds/PrettyThief
Summary: Jaime and Brienne, park rangers at Red Mountains National Park, go for a hike. Feelings happen. Sex happens.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 72
Kudos: 303





	The Prettiest Tree on the Mountain

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh, [brynnmck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brynnmck/works) prompted me with "outdoor sex" a few weeks ago, everyone's stuck inside, and I miss hiking. It's the perfect storm for whatever this is. I ran the numbers and it's probably 15% crack, 50% smut, and 35% fluff. Just so everyone's on the same page.

“Is this the last one?” Brienne dusted the dirt from her hands and placed them on her hips. She peered over Jaime’s shoulder at the list he was scrutinizing.

He glanced backward at her, their faces very close. Brienne pulled her head back to create more distance and he smiled with wry amusement, eyebrows raised.

“Looks like it,” Jaime said, shoving the list into the pockets of his tan shorts. He spun around to face her. “What now?”

Brienne inhaled sharply at the scrutinizing look in his eyes, too intense to meet for long. She glanced up toward the vibrant blue sky, the sun still high overhead.

“Well, now we’ve sectioned off all the trails, I believe we’re meant to go back to headquarters and field calls.”

Jaime wrinkled his nose at that and turned his gaze upward as well. A gentle wind caught the leaves in the trees, swirling the scent of fresh spring blooms into the air around them. Brienne glanced down in time to see it tousle his hair. She wanted to smile at the way he closed his eyes, how at peace he seemed. But she held it back for fear he’d catch her. He could be very insufferable when he thought he’d caught her looking.

“We should hike instead,” he said after a moment.

Brienne arched an eyebrow. “No one’s supposed to be on the trails. That’s _why_ we’ve spent the morning closing them.”

Jaime grinned and stepped toward the barrier they’d just erected. “I don’t think we count as ‘anyone.’ We’re employees. We’re _allowed_.”

“Jaime.”

“Brienne,” he countered, rapping his knuckles against the plastic barricade. “We’ve been working nonstop since the quarantine began. You’ve not been out just for the fun of it in _weeks_.”

She chewed her lip. “We’re supposed to be fielding calls.”

Jaime waved his stump at that. His green button-down stretched distractingly over the muscles in his chest and shoulders with the movement. “Let Jon and Pod man the desk for a while. No one’s going to be calling anyway; all the trails are closed without exception. What’s there to call about?”

Brienne sighed resignedly and, apparently taking it as consent, Jaime used his hand to hoist himself over the barrier. He landed on the other side of the sign reading, “TRAIL CLOSED. NO ENTRANCE.” He smirked at her, tilting his chin up in defiance.

She couldn’t help but huff a laugh at the sight of him, mischievous and proud.

Brienne decided she liked him like this: aggressively happy in the face of a world gone mad. He hadn’t been that way when they had met three years ago. _That_ Jaime had been thorny, moody, and impossible to like. He had been new to park ranging after a somewhat mysterious career as an agent at the bureau of investigation, but over time it seemed as though he had grown to enjoy managing the park.

She had even begun to suspect lately that maybe he even enjoyed spending time with _her_. He had definitely spent a lot of time planning ways for them to hang out. Dinners together. Watching whatever she wanted on television while they sprawled out on the couch in the rec room. Always making sure they were paired up for the day’s duties. It was enough to make her wonder.

Brienne rolled her head on her shoulders with exasperation and followed him over the barricade. She could feel him looking at her with a pleased grin, and so she chose to look pointedly straight ahead. The trail was wide, easily the park’s most popular route, and curved around the side of a mountain. It wasn’t a terribly long or especially difficult trail, but the summit was a national treasure; the entire reason Brienne had wanted to work at this park in particular.

“So,” Jaime said conversationally as they began to walk in tandem, “what have you been up to?”

“ _Well_ , I’ve been staying at this lovely little resort not too far from here. Perhaps you’ve heard of it? Red Mountains National Park ranger headquarters?”

Jaime laughed, throwing his head back slightly. Brienne didn’t realize until he’d recovered himself that she had been staring at his Adam’s apple where it bobbed merrily under his skin. She quickly looked away but it was too late. She could feel the blush already blooming on her cheeks.

“Oh, I’ve stayed there. The cots are _very_ uncomfortable. One star, I’d say--” he glanced over at her, a puzzled expression on his face. “ _What_?”

Brienne shook her head, wishing not for the first nor the last time that she was better able to hide her thoughts. “Nothing. It’s just a bit warmer out than I thought it would be.”

Jaime narrowed his eyes but mercifully did not push the subject. They walked on in silence for some time, Brienne admiring the familiar scenery with a new appreciation. Since the quarantine had begun, residents of the area had flocked to their park for lack of anything better to do. It seemed everyone had had the same idea, and so the trails had become flooded with hikers. It had overwhelmed their small staff to the point that they’d had no choice but to close the trails to the public.

Brienne was at least glad that the wilderness had been left more or less unharmed. Old growth trees surrounded them, draped in ivy and an array of multicolored blooms. A valley dipped below them, clear water babbling up at them as it glided slowly toward the river miles from where they were. A wall of purple flowers climbed up the hillside across from them.

She had traversed this mountain so many times she had each rock and tree branch and bluejay’s nest memorized. But she had never walked along the mountain quite this way. It seemed every time she looked over at Jaime, he glanced away quickly as though he had been looking at her first. She wanted to pretend she had no idea what it meant, but it made her heart pound in a way that told her that maybe she _did_.

“Do you think the bear is still out there?”

Brienne’s head snapped up. Jaime had just scrambled up a rock formation and was towering over her, looking out at the valley below. With his hair burnished by the early spring sun filtering in through the trees and his stance strong and straight, Brienne thought he looked half a god.

She gulped and looked away.

They _never_ talked about the bear.

“She seemed young. I suppose she must be.” She found purchase in the rocks with the toe of her boot and climbed up to stand by him.

Jaime wasn’t looking at her. He nodded at nothing in particular. “I hope so,” he said firmly. He turned back toward the path and offered her a tight-lipped smile as he did.

She felt they were on the brink of something, but wasn’t sure what or how to get around it. _If_ she even wanted to get around it at all; they had become true friends since the bear and the thought of ruining that with her stupid _feelings_ was a terrifying one. She said nothing else.

They carried on again, Jaime making comments to make her laugh here and there, a marked shift from his offhanded comment about the bear.

“You know,” he said once, “these are some of the tallest and strongest trees in Westeros.”

“Yes. I’m aware. I _do_ work here too.”

Jaime spun until he was in front of her, his eyes full of banked heat she had no idea what to do with. “I think you may be the tallest and the strongest tree on this mountain though.”

His voice was serious in a way that made her want to either kiss him or run from him. She chose to gape at him instead. Until he smiled and rolled his eyes.

“Take a compliment, Tarth.”

She punched his arm, and he said “ow!” and rubbed the spot like she’d actually wounded him. “You would hit a disabled man!”

“Shut up,” she said, but she didn’t want him to.

They came upon a stream in the path, the old split log laid across it barely wide enough to accommodate either of their feet. Nevertheless, Jaime crossed first in two bounding leaps. He landed triumphantly on his feet on the other side with his arms spread wide in dramatic showmanship.

“Two steps! Think you can beat it, wench?”

“I have no interest at all in falling into this stream,” she told him from the other side. Truthfully, she hated this part of the path and actually had fallen in once.

“Surely you’re not scared to get a bit _wet_?” He placed a rough emphasis on the last word, inclining his head toward her suggestively.

“Only afraid of harming your manhood, Lannister.”

Jaime shot her a challenging look that clearly said, _as if you could_.

In spite of herself, Brienne stepped back from the log a couple of paces. She would not surrender to him. Not in something as silly as this that he would no doubt hold over her head for years to come.

Brienne was already in the air when the thought struck her: _years_. She had known Jaime for years. Through his miserable first year, through the bear incident and losing his hand in the backcountry, through his recovery and his therapy. She knew him now, the improbably whole and impossibly beautiful man on the other side of the stream. Her boot touched down on the bench for just a second before she sprang back up, slipping on the slick surface just enough to throw her slightly off-balance.

She landed on the other side shakily, but Jaime caught her by the waist with the dexterity and speed of a cat. He pulled her toward him and pressed their bodies together with strong arms. He smelled vaguely of campfires and more strongly of sandalwood.

Brienne blinked up at him, her hands on his waist for support. His eyes, normally as brilliantly green as a field of springtime clover, were darker than normal, his pupils wide. His stubbled jaw was slightly slack. Jaime was an intense person to be around on a good day, but he’d never quite looked at her like this. It was thrilling and terrifying.

She took a step back, extricating herself from his hold. He let his arms fall heavily, searching her face.

“One step,” she said, a little more breathlessly than she had counted on, “beat you.”

Jaime’s eyelids fluttered as though he were awakening from a dream. “I could’ve done it in one.”

“Sure you could’ve,” she drawled, adjusting the straps of her pack just for something to occupy her hands.

“I’ll just have to leap the entire stream next time.” He fell into step beside her as they continued upward.

The trail began to narrow as it hugged a natural cut in the mountain. Brienne reached out her fingers and dragged them across the cool stone. It was a familiar spot; she and Jaime had once been dispatched there on the report of “aggressive feral dogs” that had turned out to be a pair of rambunctious puppies. Jaime had tried to take one home in a cardboard box covered with a towel at the end of their shift. But the box had yelped and he’d shrugged with a little smile that could have melted Brienne’s heart then and there. Truthfully, she liked the image of a little brown puppy licking his chin and nipping at his fingers.

She unconsciously smiled at the memory. Their boss, Jeor, had quickly nixed the idea. There were rules, he’d reminded them. Employees couldn’t just bring animals home. Jaime had been visibly annoyed and Brienne had had to place her hands on his wrist to keep him saying something he’d regret. She wondered now if that had been the right call. He deserved every ounce of happiness he managed to eek out of the world he seemed to loathe so much.

“What’s on your mind, Tarth?”

“Did you ever get a puppy?” she blurted.

Jaime chuckled, lifting a tree branch high over his head so they could pass more easily. “No. That was rather impulsive of me that day, wasn’t it?” He sounded a little embarrassed. It made her heart ache.

“You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t impulsive,” she reminded him dryly, ducking under his outstretched arm.

“Is that meant to be a compliment?”

Brienne shrugged, shoving her hands into the pockets of her shorts. “It isn’t an insult.”

Jaime stopped walking. She only noticed after she’d taken several steps without feeling his arm brush hers.

“Is that as far as we’ve come? ‘Not an insult?’”

Brienne furrowed her brow. “We’re--Jaime, we’re friends. Surely that’s clear enough.”

The look on his face was indecipherable. But he shook his head and caught up to her with a little jog. “Right. Of course we are.”

The pauses in conversation previously had not been awkward. She knew now, though, that there was something different happening between them. Something provoked by the clear trails below their feet and the clear skies over their heads. The park had never been so silent, even in winter.

They were passing a sloping field of grass that seemed to stretch on forever when one of them spoke again.

“Did you always want to be a ranger?”

Brienne quirked an eyebrow at him. “Well,” she said slowly, trying to gauge whether he was setting her up for a joke and deciding he must not be from the serious look on his face, “no, I suppose not.”

“What did you want to be, then?”

They were coming upon the summit, she realized. Their path had taken a sharp incline. Just above them lay their destination.

“A knight,” she said as seriously as she could. “I wanted to be a knight.”

Jaime laughed again, a warm sound from his chest that seemed to be made from rich, early season honey. “A knight? So why didn’t you become a knight.”

She shot him a sideways glance. “You can’t just be a knight.”

Jaime shrugged, his face sobering. “ _You_ could.”

“Jaime.” It seemed she had been wrong about his intentions to make a joke of her. They were clambering over boulders now, Jaime just behind her as he prattled on.

“I wasn’t joking.” She heard his boot slip and turned quickly to assure he was still there. He was, sweat beginning to bead in his hairline and in the vee of his shirt where he’d left the top buttons undone. She licked her lips, immediately hating herself for the instinct, but Jaime seemed not to see.

“We fought a _bear_ and _won_ , Brienne,” he said as he swung himself skillfully over the rocks below.

“ _You_ fought a bear. I very minimally helped.”

“And I lost a hand for it. But look at you. Whole.”

Brienne paused, shifting carefully in place. “You’ve brought up the bear twice today.”

“Yes.”

“You never bring up the bear.”

“Maybe I just miss the bear. The bear was less stubborn.”

“Can you please be serious?” She had not meant to sound so demanding, so desperate, but there it was.

Jaime stilled at that. “I wanted to be a soldier.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t want to be a park ranger.”

Brienne knew that. Of course she knew that. He’d said it plenty during those early days. He had even told her, when he’d been sick with fever in the backcountry after losing his hand, how his resignation from the bureau of investigation hadn’t been as voluntary as he made it sound. He’d told her what the director, Aerys Targaryen, had been up to--what Jaime had lost his reputation, career, and family trying to fight against. It had chilled her then and it chilled her now to think of it, even as the sun beamed down gaily upon them and the perfume of wild honeysuckle filled their noses.

“I wanted to be a soldier, so I became a soldier. And I hated it.” He was climbing again, coming up to meet her. “So I went to school and I hated it. I joined the bureau. Thought it would be fun. But as it turned out, I hated that too.”

Brienne didn’t say anything, had no idea what he wanted her to say.

“I don’t hate this,” he said, so softly his voice might have been only the wind in the trees.

He moved around her and hoisted himself over the last set of rocks until he was in the clearing. When she moved to follow him, he glanced down at her and offered his hand. She hesitated, never wanting to feel like she needed him, or anyone. But his face was tight with some sort of emotion she could not quite place, so she took it and let him pull her up. His strength had never been in question, but the ease with which he moved her body took her by surprise.

The summit was flat and small, as summits went. It was only a meadow of the same purple wildflowers they had passed near the trailhead. To their right, the forest stretched on forever. Behind them, the field of grass rolled on just as long. And below, just over the cliff across from them, a lake as clear and blue as sapphires hedged by a ring of redbud and dogwood trees. The contrast of pink, white, and blue seemed surreal this time of year. It was a sight Brienne did not think she would ever get used to.

They stood there for a long while. Brienne wasn’t sure which view she admired most, the nature around her or the man standing next to her. She was still trying to puzzle it all out when she felt his fingers brush hers. A deliberate, conscious movement. She froze, afraid that if she moved he would realize what he was doing and stop. And she didn’t want him to stop.

He linked their fingers in full then. Brienne’s pulse quickened.

“I think I would like this job no matter what. But I _love_ this job because of you.”

She turned her eyes toward him and bit her lip, still afraid to shatter whatever fragile thing Jaime had built between them. He was staring at her intently, his brow set low and eyes narrowed. His messy mop of curls seemed to float on the breeze. The sleeves of his work shirt were rolled up to the elbows, his lips pink and parted just slightly. And oh, how the sun seemed to love his golden skin. It was too much. She knew she couldn’t look at him much longer or she would burn to the ground.

Brienne opened her mouth and while her brain had told her to ask _why_ , the sound that came out was something more like the squeak of a mouse. She’d certainly never made that noise before.

Jaime smiled patiently. No one looked at her like that. Not Brienne Tarth, who wore the men’s uniform at work. Who could double Jon Snow’s bench press without breaking a sweat. Who had buck teeth and rarely smiled. Who had once thought a boy had liked her, only to have his rose thrown at her feet. Who had taken their least trained ranger out into the backcountry and nearly gotten them eaten by a bear. No, no one had ever looked at her. Especially not someone like Jaime Lannister.

“Me.”

“Yes. You.”

He took an angled step toward her so that they were facing one another. His face was so open; bright and alive in a way she’d never truly seen in him before. It still sent her reeling to think how much they had hated one another in the beginning. How far he had come.

“This isn’t making sense,” she whispered. “Why are you saying this now?”

“Because the world might end and I didn’t want to die without telling you.”

The laughter bubbled out of her without her permission. “So dramatic.”

Jaime’s thumb was caressing the top of her hand, tracing little patterns that Brienne found very distracting. “Maybe. But I just… Wanted to…” His eyes dropped to his boots.

Brienne did not know Jaime Lannister to be a nervous man. In fact, he was decisive to a fault. He chose a plan and he stuck to it, pushing forward no matter the personal cost. But before her now, his brow was wrinkled and his tongue darted out to lick at his bottom lip. He was nervous. Vulnerable. It made her want to kiss him.

She’d thought about it before. Of course she had. He may have been an insufferable cock for most of their acquaintance, but she was hardly _blind_.

“Jaime,” she said softly and when he at last looked up at her, she could see it in his eyes: solid evidence of whatever had been bubbling under the surface of their day--of the last year, at least. She could only smile, whatever words she’d meant to say lost to the wind and to the banked heat in his eyes now as active as wildfire.

As if he had read her mind anyway, Jaime closed the distance between them, his wrist moving to her hip. He dropped her hand slowly, their fingers sliding apart with great reluctance. A gust of wind kicked up from the lake below, sending multicolored swirls of petals flying all around them. And in the middle of it all, Jaime was beaming at her. His hand found its way to her cheek, fingertips grazing along her jaw. They were so close now that she could feel the heat radiating from his body, a balm against the cool spring wind. His forehead touched against hers.

“I’ve always wondered what you would look like from here.”

Brienne’s eyes fluttered closed. It was difficult to believe this was happening. That this was real.

“Don’t hide,” he murmured, his breath warm against her lips. She felt his thumb smooth over her brow, coaxing her eyes back open. “I want to see you. I want to always see you.”

She held his gaze just long enough for her heart to beat wildly in her chest a few more times. And then his lips were upon hers, softer than any of her fantasies. A gentle pressure on her lower lip. The soft touch of his fingertips against her cheekbone. The scratch of his stubble against her chin. The taste of sweat and a sweet chapstick on his lips. The slow creep of his wrist from her hip to her waist, pulling her in impossibly closer.

He pulled back long enough to give her a half-smile. Her hands were on his hips. She wasn’t sure when that had happened but she held on tightly, grounding herself to him and to the mountain beneath their feet.

“Say something.” He was using a finger to tug one strap of her pack off of her shoulder, indicating exactly what he wanted her to say. What his intentions were.

But Brienne did not know the words. She’d never been good with them. Jaime could be flowery, heartfelt, perhaps even poetic. But that was not her.

“I hope the world doesn’t end.”

Jaime laughed, just a puff of air against her cheek. “I don’t care if it does.”

His kiss was harder this time. If she had been capable of conscious thought, Brienne might have been surprised by how eagerly she met the demands of his lips. When his tongue swept across her bottom lip, she opened up for him without hesitation. Something warm and hungry ignited low in her body, spurring her to confidence.

Jaime had worked her pack off of her shoulders and slung off his own without breaking contact with her mouth. His fingers were inching up the loose hem of her denim work shirt, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Brienne had not gained the bravery to allow her own hands to roam, although they seemed desperately to want to. But then she felt the hard line of his thigh press between her legs and her grip on Jaime’s hips turned bruising. She moaned into his mouth at the contact, unaware until then just how badly she’d wanted to feel him there. It was enough to send her hands up--only a couple of inches, just enough to feel the warm flesh of his tight abdomen.

Jaime broke away to pepper kisses along the length of her jaw, his lips barely more than a whisper against the skin where her ear met her neck. Brienne shivered and she could feel a smile spread across his face where his lips were pressed against her.

He drew his head away from her with a last, lingering kiss. He bit his lip as he looked at her, his pupils blown and a flush spread across his sharp cheekbones. Their breathing came hard and heavy, chests pressed together. And Brienne could not contain herself any longer. Would not.

She inhaled deeply and stitched together every scrap of courage within her to cup Jaime’s face between her hands and kiss him, hard and deep. Fervent. His body was rigid with surprise at first, but she was pleased by how quickly he seemed to soften beneath her grasp. His hand carried on up her shirt, drawing a line along the bottom of her breast. She whimpered greedily and Jaime responded with a thumb against her nipple, coaxing it to peak.

At once, she wanted to waste no more time. She slid her shaking and fumbling hands down to the buttons on Jaime’s shirt, still working her tongue against his all the while. She could feel him as she worked, hard and insistent against her thigh. She felt drunk on the thought of it. This man--obscenely handsome, strong, and clever-- _wanted_ her. _Her_. Brienne Tarth. Without so much physical evidence, she might not have believed it.

She leaned away from his face to admire her handiwork: broad and sloping shoulders, taught and muscular torso. But only for a second as she tore her own shirt off and went back to kissing him. Jaime’s hips bucked against her, his fingers pinched at her nipple. His other arm wrapped around her back, melding their bare torsos together. He bucked again and she took the hint, pulling him down with her into the sea of wildflower.

Even short one hand between them, they made quick work of the rest of their clothes. No words were spoken. No words were needed. Brienne could not say how long they had been on the precipice of this, but his hot skin and shuddering breath against her felt inevitable.

Jaime took hold of her and pulled her on top of him. His eyes were wide and admiring; more like he had just climbed the tallest peak in Westeros and couldn’t believe the sight before him, and less like he was looking at a gawkish mountain of a woman.

“Brienne,” he gasped from beneath her, his cock rigid and difficult to ignore against her ass, “come here.”

She leaned down, expecting him to kiss her again. But he pressed his wrist into her shoulder.

“No,” he said, “come _here_.” He didn’t wait for her this time. Instead he hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her upward until her thighs were around either side of his face.

The meadow was cool beneath her knees, the leaves of the little flowers tickling the soles of her feet. She couldn’t tell if the gooseflesh covering her body was from the cool mountain winds or from Jaime’s touch. He urged her further forward with his hand and stump until her cunt was inches from his face.

Jaime grinned up at her, just as mischievous as he’d been when hopping across the stream. “Just there. Now stay put.” And he surged forward at the same time he pulled her closer, her body colliding with his mouth in a single motion.

His lips connected with her clit and he _sucked_. Brienne cried out, stuttering and wild. Her hand was halfway to her mouth to stifle the noise before Jaime brought it back down. He was right, of course. They were the only two souls in the entire park, the only people around for miles. Jaime worked his tongue against her, using the tip to tickle before lapping at her in long, purposeful stripes.

“Ride me,” he said, breathless.

Her eyes widened, but for once she could find no reason to argue with him. She positioned herself over him, lowering herself further until he could easily wrap his lips around her clit. She’d never done this before--had never done much at all before. But Jaime’s hand and wrist were upon her hips and he guided her to a steady motion against his mouth. His stubble was rough against her, a welcome sensation. He was moaning against her as she fucked his face, licking and breathing heavily through his nose each time she rolled upward. She ground against him, all of the muscles in her body growing more and more tense at an exponential rate. His fingers found and tweaked her nipple right as he took a powerful pull from her clit. She was going to--

“Oh _god_ ,” she groaned, surprising herself as the tension became unbearable, “Oh _Jaime_.” His name seemed to have been the cue; the pace of his tongue quickened, his guiding hands urging her hips to rock into him faster until her entire body clenched so hard she saw white. Her body shook but Jaime held her in place, relentless. As quickly as the feeling had come, it had gone again, and Brienne collapsed across him, panting in the grass.

Jaime slid upward, pulling her down to face him at the same time so that she was nearly in his lap. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, burying his face in her neck.

He placed soothing kisses against her shoulder, along her collarbone. He pushed the hair from her face, rubbed his stump down the length of her spine. And then without warning, he took hold of her and rolled them over so that he was now over top of her.

Jaime was staring down at her, propped up on one elbow. Brienne had seen him from so many angles, in so many different lights. She’d never seen him like this. Somehow carefree and intense all at once. And _hers_.

His eyes raked down the length of her body in a way that might have made her want to cover it, if he were anyone else. He ran his fingers along the length of her leg, long and slow, making her shiver. “Gods you’re strong. I don’t know why you’d even look twice at me.”

Before she could protest, he was kissing her again, his hand hot and firm against her thigh. She kissed him back, slowly and surely, the taste of herself on his tongue more appealing than she’d ever dreamed it might be.

She had never pictured her first time and in truth, had begun to accept that it would never happen. She had certainly never thought it would be anything as perfect as at the top of one of her favorite mountains, birds chirping all around them and the smell of spring in the air. As she considered it, Jaime was fumbling in his discarded pack, eventually pulling out a square silver wrapper.

“You just happened to have that?” she asked with a shaky laugh.

Jaime had the decency at least to look sheepish. He shrugged. “A man can dream, can’t he? And _you_ should be glad I did.”

She snorted, rolling her eyes.

But she was glad.

It took some fumbling, Jaime having just the one hand and Brienne having never put a condom on a man before, but before long he was hovering over top of her and she was aching for him in a way she did not know a person could ache.

“You’re certain, wench?” he asked, the nervous edge creeping back into his voice. Then lower, quieter, “me?”

She didn’t answer him, only took his hips in her hands and kissed him as she did, guiding him to where she wanted him.

Jaime was careful at first, surprisingly gentle in the way he pushed in slowly, an inch at a time until she was filled with him to the hilt. The pain she’d been warned about was there, but it was a sweet sort of pain. He stilled inside of her for a moment, watching her face until she smiled encouragingly. He pulled out of her and slid in again, gradually picking up the pace and intensity as he did until he found a rhythm he liked. She felt his fingers move between them, drawing circles on her clit with the pad of a calloused thumb. She strangled a cry and shut her eyes, the sensation more than anything she'd ever felt. Feeling Jaime watching her, she forced her eyes open again. He grinned in response and ramped up his speed, crashing their slick bodies together with such an intensity that her ecstatic cries echoed down across the valley below.

At once, his thickness driving in and out of her cunt was entirely too much, and it seemed as though her body went on autopilot. Brienne instinctively raised her hips, meeting his thrusts, and Jaime grunted so gutterally she thought she’d hurt him. When she looked up at him to make sure he was alright, his shoulders were squared and his eyes were alight. His pause lasted only a split second before he leaned in as close as possible and drove his cock into her with a renewed strength and fervor.

It was all him now. His musky, woodsy scent. His teeth on the juncture of her neck and shoulder, his fingers on her clit, his cock deep inside of her before sliding torturously out again. His athletic body pressing her into the bed of flowers. He fucked her frantically, as though the world truly were ending. As though the fusion of their bodies was the only thing holding it together. He whispered in her ear every few thrusts, clipped and nonsensical words.

 _Fuck_.

 _Brienne_.

_Fuck._

_So good--_

Until she couldn’t take it anymore, and her body was tensing again. Her cunt clenched around him and he moaned like a wounded animal.

“Come with me,” she heard herself demand. “Oh, gods, _Jaime, come with me_.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” he said again and she could feel him swell within her right as she tumbled over the edge, his name a scream on her lips; a strangled roar on his.

She wasn’t sure how long they lay there, Jaime pinning her to the cool ground, his cock softening inside of her. He pressed gentle kisses to her jaw, her ear, her neck, her shoulders. Lazy caresses. Nuzzled her chin with his nose. Murmured her name and ran his fingers up and down her torso.

Eventually he rolled off to pull a small towel out of his pack. He used it to dry her first, a sweet gesture that Brienne privately marveled at.

“I have to say,” he said as they pulled their shorts back on, “this has been _at least_ top three hikes of all time for me.”

Brienne could feel the color rising in her face, but she only laughed. It almost annoyed her, how easily he could make her laugh. But mostly she loved him for it.

They sat amongst the purple flowers for a while, watching the wind ripple across the lake below. Jaime’s arm was slung low across her waist, his chest bare and her shirt still undone. After a few moments, she tentatively laid her head onto his shoulder, and he gave her waist a squeeze. Brienne had known she’d wanted this for a while. She knew it when he looked at her for approval in a way he never looked at anyone else. She had known it during his post-bear confession about Aerys Targaryen, when she’d been suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to pull him in and hold him, to tell him he’d done the right thing even if no one else saw it. She even knew it in the privacy of her bedroom, when the nights were especially lonely.

She had never expected it to happen. Not even when he looked at her like he wanted to devour her. Nor when he made some flirty comment she’d noticed he never made to anyone else. Or when it seemed like he’d gone out of his way to brush her hand or touch her shoulder. It had never seemed possible.

“What do we do now?” she said quietly.

“I believe the next step is to put our shirts on.”

“You know what I mean.”

Jaime dipped his head to look at her. “I suspect we’ll be quarantined for a while.” He sighed dramatically. “What a shame. Holed up together. Do you suspect we’ll have to share a bed or do you think there’ll be enough?”

“Jaime, we’ve been sleeping here for weeks. You know there are enough.”

He laughed and shrugged his empty shoulder. “I’ll accidentally set fire to mine. Then they’ll have no choice but to let us bunk together.”

She laughed, feeling as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She had no idea what their coworkers would think, but she also found that perhaps … she didn’t care, either.

The storm came from nowhere. Or perhaps they had just not been paying attention.

“Fuck,” Jaime said. “Spring showers.”

They scrambled to gather their belongings and fasten their shirts back on. Brienne’s heart seemed to skip a beat at the soft smile on Jaime’s face when she did up the buttons on his shirt for him.

Picking up his pack, he grimaced back at her. “The ponchos are on the truck at the trailhead.”

“We’re going to be soaked!” Brienne groaned, thinking of Jon and the rest back at headquarters and how they’d laugh at their lack of preparation.

Jaime smirked over his shoulder before jumping over a boulder. “ _You_ were already soaked.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“But you like me.”

They had come to the bottom of the rocky outcrops. The rain was warm, the sun was shining through the clouds. There would be a rainbow later, she realized.

“I like you very much.”

Jaime grinned, pleased as punch.

They walked along the trail hand in hand, not caring much about the rain. They passed many sights that normally Brienne might have paused to marvel at, even though she’d seen them hundreds of times before. She decided then that the happy, fulfilled look on his face was a better vision than anything nature could provide. The thought struck her, watching him smile, that if she was the strongest tree on the mountain, Jaime was definitely the prettiest.

Not that she would ever tell him that.

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from [this Ben Sollee song](https://open.spotify.com/track/1hlZXoa8ZBhHB0Rd4RKI9z?si=stL6AelmTE6wt08XUSxCGA). It’s a gorgeous song with some beautifully poetic lines, but the content has little to do with this fic other than imagery.


End file.
